A Spring undone
two windows, tired,
contracting, heavy,
incapable.
Collecting the disappeared.
Memory, at disuse fail, and
a today uncertain undertakes
to cease the recurring
hackneyed season
engulf the deary.
Infinite!
Bless. Be kind.
My torments go unrecognized.
-Manvendra Vidyarthi
Dear April,
The day of the silent footsteps has come.
The fiery one is ready to hide,
to let the last serene ocean
of the night say its goodbye.
It will be pretty and your cruel nature, a beautiful one.
The feet, and of the other lovers I am unaware of
will sink tonight.
This is how we wait, clutched and deprived.
You leave behind a tiny shadow
as you move away on your toes.
My heart throbs and I know it wants to follow you.
This weak one blames me for it cannot leave
as my being cages it in my ribs.
A long March does torment me.
But unlike you,
she presents you at her shadow.
What do you have for me ‘My April’?
-Manvendra Vidyarthi
(The Stories beneath the eyes)
For the obvious ones,
thoughtfullness is another’s cup of tea.
It is the moments who breathe.
Timeless is too long for me and you to see.
Is not change the constant that comes to us
and everything at it’s will?
What is worth?
If not one’s words.
Fingers crossed, hearts look into other hearts.
Closed.
-Manvendra Vidyarthi
(The Stories beneath the eyes)
It is tough.
The days end. Some makes you forget.
Being away.
There comes a Night. There comes a Day.
When things change.
The Time: The Day or The Night, you do not care.
It is the same.
But now you recall days of the years and the months.
Time that is done.
It does not come again. Now the tongues are less.
Despite the years.
You spent in order to gain. Those you thought will always
Be the same.
For some reason, still unknown. Life contracts and expands.
At the same time.
The festive time bring smiles. A new knowledge you have gained.
They tell distance.
Those smiles you now memorize.
The Days walk away.
The Time that is done. It Does not come again.
-Manvendra Vidyarthi
(The Stories beneath the eyes)
Summers, never had I thought you will
make preciousness perch
onto my very being.
In life, I praised the infinite.
As for me,
I understood he forges all.
Yet preciousness perched
onto my heart’s wall.
Blessing me she pours
unto voids I hold.
-Manvendra Vidyarthi.
(The Stories beneath the eyes.)
Yet again, it was the unpermitted.
Surely I have a thing for it.
No, I do not have to suppose anymore.
And in my confidence,
We know what we need to know.
(I thought I did, Foolishness smiles at me.)
You understand the arithmetic of the cerulean colour.
Remember? How once, I told you about a certain kind of Diagram?
Now I tell you how,
It radiates the ‘Darker Hue Of The Orange’.
Just as this evening sky,
Blushing the orange of the Sun.
And how fierce you are, Orange.
But admiring this, the cerulean wears it all.
(Can he now?)
Listen Grace, closely listen to this colour.
I find this serene. I wait for your meaning.
All the details you explore.
And the storms you bring in my cage.
Yet, the peace it brings.
Never had I thought,
that the storms bring along peace.
Reminds me,
Of how you once
you told me about being illogical.
(I am being one with it now.)
I recall, the same day I met insecurity…
… (This Poem is Unfinished and will remain to be.)
-Mann.
After all, the leaves have now fallen.
holding the thoughts that leave the trees.
Look how the streets have now been covered.
Laying flat as the pages you often see on my desk.
And I know not, whether to look for spaces in between them
Or to just gently press them beneath my feet.
If the wind plays her game hiding her cards.
Am I to run and chase after her and be played
like a record playing to please the listener’s heart?
Or am I to ignore every thing
and stomp my feet and tell the earth ‘I exist’.?
Or to take the form of the wind?
Take the leaves with me.
Take them higher than all the trees.
-Manvendra Vidyarthi
(The Stories beneath the eyes)
Is this the sunset when the sea is painted in glittering gold?
Or the foreign lands?
Of whom I learn more, each day.
Like the memory I never lived.
Is that how the clouds make the earth taste?
Of which is hers to begin with.
Of which she is unknown.
Yet, it is all her own.
How she becomes more of what she was before.
O! The Sun!
O! The Earth!
O! The Sky!
How might I, through you convey?
In genuineness, what is hidden in the moon’s light.
-Manvendra Vidyarthi
(The Stories beneath the eyes)
And who takes my fragrance to the solitary loon?
Who sits in the Sun warming his heart.
To see the beauty of the solitary lass.
The one to steal my sweetness desired.
The Wind, you are the nature’s pryer.
-Manvendra Vidyarthi.
(The Stories beneath the eyes)
For the sun to kiss the earth.
It knows – everyday it has to burn.
-Manvendra Vidyarthi.
(The Stories beneath the eyes)
The Stories Beneath the eyes. 